


Katniss, It's Me

by hutchabelle



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3083525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchabelle/pseuds/hutchabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in District 13, Peeta Mellark struggles without Katniss Everdeen who was captured by the Capitol and hijacked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Katniss, It's Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maytheoddsbeinkatewinslet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=maytheoddsbeinkatewinslet).



“Peeta!” Haymitch shouts as he bursts into the room. “She's back. We’ve got her. Let’s get down to the infirmary so we can be there when she wakes up.”

 

I spring from the cross-legged position on my bed and wince as my foot tingles and almost gives way beneath me. I have to shake it and lean on my artificial limb to soothe the heaviness and needles that prick at my lower leg.

 

“She’s really safe?” I ask, incredulous that the gaunt woman I saw on the broadcast just a few nights ago is secure here in District 13, safe from the Capitol, protected from Snow, and just a short distance from me.

 

I’ve missed her more than I can bear. Katniss has always been a part of my life, ever since I saw her for the first time when I was five. She became a fixture in my mind the day she sang the Valley Song in music class. When she shot her arrow into the arena’s force field and shattered the Hunger Games forever, I lost her.

 

I didn’t know anything about the festering rebellion until I awoke on the hovercraft bound for District 13 and Haymitch explained that there’d been a plan to get us out since the moment the Third Quarter Quell was announced. I sat there in disbelief as Finnick and Plutarch nodded their heads in support of my mentor’s explanation until I’d worked up the nerve to ask the one question that burned in my skull.

 

“Where’s Katniss?” I asked with a sinking heart because I already knew deep inside myself. I knew there was no way they’d keep us separated if they’d rescued us both, so it wasn’t a surprise when Heavensbee looked at me with more sympathy than I thought he could possibly muster and admitted, “She’s in the Capitol. They got her.”

 

I screamed then, screamed until my voice went hoarse and my body gave out. Plutarch tried to sedate me, but Haymitch stopped him. He understood the pain I was feeling and hoped I’d be able to vent most of it so I’d be of more use to them if I healed quickly. After only a few seconds, Finnick fled the meeting room and hid until I collapsed in a shuddering heap and rocked back and forth the rest of the way to District 13. When we got there, I deplaned in a trance and followed Haymitch like a wounded animal to the hospital where Prim and her mother treated me for shock, anxiety, and depression.

 

It’s been three months, and I’m still not okay. I still worry about Katniss every second of every day, but now maybe I can stop. With her here, maybe I can find myself again. Maybe I can actually take part in the rebellion and help defeat Snow. I know that’s what Katniss would want.

 

I shake myself from my memories and focus on Haymitch, who shrugs and shakes his head. “All I know is that she’s here. She’s out of Snow’s grasp and under our care. Let’s go find out how she fared while she was there.”

 

I step tentatively on my good leg again and am relieved to find it’s back to normal. Shuffling behind Haymitch, I practically sprint to keep up with him after a few steps. He turns corners quickly until he reaches a stairwell that heads down to District 13’s hospital.

 

We enter the infirmary, and I glance briefly at Gale, who seems to have some sort of shoulder wound, and a very thin and bald Johanna Mason. But soon enough, the entirety of my attention is on the windows through which I can see an emaciated woman with a limp braid of dark hair hanging down her back. The doctors take her vitals and mark several observations on small tablets before filing out of the room. A steady stream attends her as I cling to the outside window sill and scan her body language to gain some sort of clue about how she is.

 

“She’s so thin,” I whisper in intense fear because Katniss barely had enough on her bones as it was, and she’s got even less of it now.

 

“We’ll have to fatten her up,” Haymitch grins and clasps my shoulder as the doctors motion me into the room. “Go tell our girl hello.”

 

I enter the room cautiously in an attempt not to startle her, but her eyes demonstrate a frenzied fear. She rears her head like a terrified horse before it bolts, so I approach her slowly and with trepidation.

 

“Katniss? Katniss, it’s me,” I almost whisper, and she launches herself at me. For a split second I think she intends to kiss me, but her hands claw at my face and then she knocks my left leg out from under me. My good one collapses since I didn’t expect her attack, and my head smacks the concrete floor when I fall. I can still feel a horrible pain in my neck even through my haze of disbelief. What did they do to her?

 

Blackness swims before me, and I hear Haymitch yelling as the doctors scuffle to restrain her and tend to me. Katniss howls like a scared animal, and I feel my heart shatter as I slip into unconsciousness.

 

****

 

I wake from darkness and see Prim Everdeen gazing into my eyes with a soft smile on her face.

 

“Hi, Peeta,” she mumbles quietly and adjusts the pillow under my head. “You comfortable?”

 

I try to nod but realize quickly my head’s immobile. My eyes widen in fear until Prim pats my shoulder to calm me.

 

“It’s okay,” she reassures me. “It’s just a neck brace. Kat—  I mean, she didn’t hurt your leg. Your neck seems to be the only problem, and it’s just stiff and sore. I think you passed out from shock more than anything else.”

 

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask without knowing whether or not I actually want to know.

 

Her younger sister sighs and stills long enough to observe me carefully. “She’s hijacked, Peeta. It’s an old term from before the Dark Days, but it basically means that she’s been brainwashed and reprogrammed to believe that you’re her enemy, that you’re intent on destroying her, and that you’re at fault for our father’s death all those years ago.”

 

“But that doesn’t even make sense!” I protest. “Why would I have hurt your father? _How_ could I have? I’ve never even been down in a mine. And I love her! Why would I want to destroy her?”

 

Her mouth turned down into a sad smile before she asks, “Since when does anything the Capitol do make sense?”

 

I still then with my voice caught in my throat. She’s right. Nothing makes sense, so I allow myself to fall into a deep sleep again.

 

****

 

The next time I see her, she’s undergoing therapy outside in the training yard. Katniss holds a bow and a quiver of arrows is slung over her right shoulder. She hits every target she’s given until an image of me flits in front of her. Suddenly, her hands tremble, and she pulls arrows so fast her movements blur. Frenzied and frantic, she shoots them in every direction in quick succession. I see the doctors who observe her shake their heads, and she’s ushered back inside and into solitary confinement.

 

A week or so later, she enters the cafeteria under heavy guard and approaches the table where I’m eating with Johanna, Gale, and Delly, my lone surviving friend from District 12. She stands watching us forlornly with her tray in her hands until Gale scoots over and offers her a place to sit.

 

She looks at me blankly and asks, “Who are you?”

 

With a cracked heart, I sigh, “Katniss, it’s me. Peeta.”

 

Her reaction is immediate. She grips her spoon and bends in it half before her entire body shakes violently. Gale looks at her in concern and nods to me. “You better go, Peeta.” With tears in my eyes, I run from the cafeteria and find solace alone in my compartment—without Katniss, without anyone who loves me, because she was the only one besides my dead family and even she didn’t know she did.

 

The next several months pass in a blur. She’s not recovered, maybe she never will be, but there’s nothing I can do to help her. I try. I try everything I can think of to remind her of who she is, what I mean to her, how we’re connected. Nothing works, and all I manage to accomplish is upsetting her further and driving her away.

 

In order to distract myself from my misery, I volunteer to join the war effort as more than a spokesperson for District 13’s propaganda. Being in action helps push the loneliness from my mind, but the ache never really goes away. I’ve lost her, and there’s part of me that knows I’ll never get her back again.

 

The war ends suddenly, almost more quickly than I can comprehend. Rebel soldiers break through a barricade near the Presidential Palace, and Snow surrenders. I’m stunned beyond comprehension when I learn that Prim was killed by a double bomb in the melee surrounding the final military action. It seems both sides used their most horrific weapons to force the cease fire and a number of innocent lives were lost in the process. When I hear the terrible news, I demand that those in control allow me to see Katniss again.

 

After several days of waiting, I’m ushered into a room where Katniss sits listlessly. Her eyes are hollow and stare blankly at a wall when I enter. She looks broken, fractured beyond repair, and my heart aches for everything we lost, everything _I’ve_ lost because I know she’ll never be the old Katniss who loves me.

 

“Katniss,” I say gently, “it’s me.” Her shoulders tense at the sound of my voice, but I continue in an unthreatening tone, “I just wanted to see you, Katniss. Just wanted to let you know how sorry I am for what happened to you. For what happened to Prim.”

 

Her shoulders shake in silent sobs, and she turns to look at me with soulful eyes. “She’s gone, Peeta,” she whispers hoarsely. “I wish I was gone, too.”

 

I approach her slowly with raised hands until I’m able to embrace her. She relaxes into my arms briefly, but then she starts to shake again. “Let me go, Peeta,” she begs with panic in her voice.

 

“I can’t,” I admit because the feel of her against me makes me feel complete.

 

She screeches then, her voice a broken wail that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Medical personnel floods the room, and I’m pulled away and shoved outside. Through the window, I can see Katniss thrashing as the doctors work to calm her.

 

I spend the next several hours searching for Haymitch. When I find him, I utter only two sentences.

 

“Send me back to District 12. She’s never going to get better.”

 

****

 

Months pass before I see her again. I spend the days in isolation, cooking and painting, as I try to block out the emptiness of Victor’s Village. No one’s around; not even Haymitch who chose to stay in the Capitol and help Katniss’ attempt to recover. There’s noise in the town as many of the remaining District 12 residents return to clean up the ruins and rebuild a life there, but I don’t know any of them. They’re friendly enough to me, but I was a merchant before the war. I was already an outsider, and that hasn’t changed after what happened with the games.

 

But one night, I glance out my window and see lights flickering in Haymitch’s kitchen. Eagerly, I run to my porch and see the illuminated panes of Katniss’ house, too. Her face stares at me from an upstairs window before disappearing. When she doesn’t signal me in any way, I sigh and return inside. It’s probably best to wait until tomorrow to approach her.

 

I’m up before the sun and spend the time baking her favorite treat. The cheese buns turn out perfectly, and I can’t wait to share them with her. When I knock on the door, nothing happens, and I almost lose my nerve. After several moments, I try the doorknob and am surprised it opens easily under my hand. She’s huddled in the corner of the couch, and I approach her slowly.

 

“Katniss, it’s me,” I offer. “I brought cheese buns. They’re your favorite.”

 

She grips the edge of the couch and pushes into the cushions to get as far away from me as possible. I stop and extend the basket of food toward her and wait patiently until she grabs one of the baked goods and shrinks back into the couch. I sink into the chair behind me and simply wait until she’s done eating and is ready to talk to me.

 

“Thank you,” she says with a tremor in her voice.

 

“You’re welcome,” I return with more patience than I feel. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. I know the Capitol tried to convince you that I’m the enemy, but I’m really not. You’re so important to me, Katniss. Don’t let them take you from me.”

 

She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, she rises from the couch and climbs the stairs to leave me sitting by the fire. When she doesn’t return after several minutes, I shuffle back to my own house. It’s counterproductive to force my way into her life before she’s ready. Nothing good will come from me forcing her to accept what I know is true.

 

****

 

The next day I return with more of her favorite bread and renewed patience. I try again, and again she eats the food I bring her but can barely stand to look at me. I remain on the other side of the room; unthreatening, quiet, and still so as not to startle her. The day after she blinks at me while she eats her cheese buns, which I choose to believe is progress. It’s not until she catches me planting Primrose bushes in a row by her house that she speaks to me, and then it’s a quiet, “She would have liked this. Thank you.”

 

It’s several months before she tells me stories about what happened to her in the Capitol; what kind of torture was inflicted upon her, how she screamed for me but I didn’t come, how she woke to nightmares every night and my arms weren’t there to comfort her. I stay away for two days when she admits that to me because I can’t handle the pain either.

 

Time passes slowly, and with many lost days and a number of setbacks, Katniss and I grow back together. She begins to hunt again, but I never go with her. Not only would I scare away all the game, but I don’t trust her not to have another flashback and shoot me instead of an animal. When she refuses to tell me where she goes just in case she doesn’t return, I know she worries about the same thing.

 

Katniss never really gets over the hijacking. How can she when it tugged at the very fiber of who she is? But one day she looks at me with clear gray eyes and smiles, and I know we can get through this. I know that Snow didn’t win, that good triumphs over evil, and that she’s found her way back to me.

 

Many years later when her episodes have abated as much as they ever will, she tells me she’s carrying our child. With awe and wonder I place my hand over her belly. Although it’s much too soon to feel anything, my fingers tingle at the thought of a baby joining our world.

 

I lean closer and whisper, “Hey there, little one. It’s me. Your daddy.”


End file.
